Walking Across Time
by snufkin
Summary: Harry travels back in time in order to kill Tom Riddle but things don't go as planned. Who is the uncanny first year who seems to hold a grudge against Riddle? Dark!Harry. [COMPLETE]
1. Tempus Clock

Walking Across Time

Chapter One – Tempus Clock

"I had to transfigure my lungs to become self-sustaining, Albus," Harry said to Dumbledore's portrait. "A bubble-head charm no longer works because there is no oxygen to be filtered."

"Lemon drop, my boy?" the portrait said.

"Did you know I found Hermione and Ron's remains the other day?" Harry continued while wiping his sting gun with a rag. "I think they were burned at the stake some weeks before the cataclysm. I found their rings in the ashes."

"Death is the next greatest adventure," the portrait said.

"No, it is certainly not," Harry looked up, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Say, Albus, do you know how your precious Severus got killed after he ran away from the Dark Lord?"

Harry didn't wait for Dumbledore to reply. "He got lynched by angry muggles. Isn't that funny?"

Harry lifted a twelve-inch oak wood wand for the portrait to see.

"Do you think that if Snape had his wand he might have gotten away from the mob?" Harry smirked disturbingly.

"It's Professor Snape, Harry," the portrait corrected.

"Whatever, he's dead. There's no harm in calling him Snape or greasy git or giant bat," said Harry who was now looking through his extremely compact backpack. "Hey Albus, where did I put the Tempus clock?"

"Lemon drop, my boy?" the portrait asked.

"No, the Tempus clock," Harry said.

"Lemon drop?" the portrait said again.

"You're repeating yourself again, Albus," Harry looked at Dumbledore's portrait with tired eyes. "Defective, that's what you are. Magic is leaking out of this world."

Harry finally took out a withered old clock from his backpack. Harry fingered the chain and turned the dial six times before putting it around his neck.

"Albus?"

The portrait stayed silent. Its owner had stopped moving long ago. Magic had started to leave after the area been "cleansed" by the muggles. Now Dumbledore's portrait was going to be silent for the rest of eternity.

"Albus?" Harry repeated a tad nervously. When the portrait didn't answer, Harry resigned himself to the loss of another. It wasn't the first time he had lost Dumbledore anyway.

Harry shrunk the portrait and put it in his backpack. He stood in what was left of Hogwarts' Dungeons. The castle above had been completely levelled by the muggles. Harry fingered the chain of the clock again.

"Am I fated to remain alone?" Harry wondered before activating the Tempus Clock.

He disappeared in a flash of yellow and what was left of the rest of the world crumbled around the light.

In another temporal space, a seventeen-year-old boy with jet-black hair appeared at King's Cross carrying a backpack. He fixed his slightly skewed glasses and bent down to pick up a newspaper.

The teenager glanced at the date written in cursive. September 1, 1939.

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Author's Note: and that is the first chapter. Are you intrigued enough to leave me a review?


	2. Ship of Fools

Walking Across Time

Chapter Two – Ship of Fools

Tom Riddle stepped onto platform nine and three quarters his trunk floating behind him. There was still two hours before the train would leave for Hogwarts but Tom prided himself in being a punctual person. _Wasn't particularly enjoying myself at the orphanage either_, he thought to himself. _I'll be of age soon and I'll never have to back to that hole._

Lost in his thoughts, Tom did not notice the teenager avidly reading a newspaper until he was almost standing on top of him.

"Pardon me," Tom said. " I wasn't watching where I was going."

The teenager glanced at Tom before he resumed reading.

"I wasn't really paying any attention to my surroundings either," the black-haired boy said. "No need to apologize."

Tom didn't recognize the boy although they were probably the same age. Tom resisted the urge to ask the boy's identity. Whether the boy was a transfer student, a young teacher or a relative of a student, Tom would find out eventually. There was no need for haste. Tom gave a silent nod to the boy and walked towards the Hogwarts Express.

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Harry had recognized Tom Riddle the instant the other had walked onto the platform. He forced himself to remain calm. It wouldn't do to give it all away in one shot. No, this matter required time and preparation. There was no need for haste.

Harry gripped his newspaper but appeared to be intently caught in an article. He sighed in relief when Riddle walked away without having made any attempt at conversation. Harry simply wasn't prepared to begin fraternising with the enemy just yet. His wounds still felt fresh.

"Breathe, Potter," he bit his lower lip and tried to focus on the printed words in front of him. "Gotta stop wearing your emotions on your sleeve."

Harry let his training take over and felt his shoulders relax, his fingers unclench and his heart rate slow down.

"I'm used to high-pressure situation," Harry repeated to himself. "Seriously, what's one baby Voldemort compared to an angry mob of muggles armed with nuclear bombs?"

Harry folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his backpack. People were starting to appear on the platform and some were beginning to stare at him curiously. Harry smoothed the front of his standard black robes and climbed onto the train.

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Harry was lulled to sleep by the soothing motion of the train. He opened his eyes to a set of frosty pale blue ones.

"You're awake," Riddle said in a flat tone.

"Yes," Harry said simply. He took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is," Riddle replied. "You can tell me your name."

"Eager to know, aren't you?" Harry smirked. "My name's Potter. Harry Potter."

"Are you related to the Gryffindor Potters?" asked Riddle his hands folded on his knees.

"I wouldn't know," Harry shrugged. "I'm an orphan."

Riddle didn't fidget at all. No slight movement, tic or eye blinking that plagued normal human behaviour. It was innerving to say the least. Harry did not let himself be affected. He was veteran of the Great Wizard War after all.

"I see," Riddle said. "Might I assume that since you're on this train that you are a transfer student?"

"What's it to you if I am?" Harry said, almost rudely. He stuck his hand into his backpack and fished out an old worn book and started reading.

"As Headboy, it is my duty to be informed of new situations on the Hogwarts Express," Riddle said calmly. "My name is Tom Riddle by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said nonchalantly this time and flipped through his book.

Riddle peered at the cover of Harry's book. His eyes widened slightly before his eyebrows became creased, the only indication that Riddle was thinking.

"Recipes for the Soul," Riddle finally said, a hint of greed in his voice. "I didn't know the book was still in production."

"It's an old edition," Harry said, biting his lip. He had inadvertently taken out the one book in his possession that discussed horcruxes. "The inside is charmed so that only its owner can read it."

Riddle sized him up as if daring him to tell the truth. Riddle eventually stood up. "Well, it was nice chatting you up, Potter, but I'm afraid that I have duties elsewhere. Good luck with your sorting."

Harry remained silent as Riddle stepped into the hallway where a certain Abraxas Malfoy greeted him. Harry flipped his bangs back and let the tip of his fingers feel his scar. Harry then abruptly grabbed his backpack, fumbling through it.

Harry took out the shrunken portrait of Dumbledore.

"Albus, are you awake?"

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Author's Note: Will Book 7 ever come out?! Or I'll be stuck withering away on fanfiction for the rest of my life.


	3. Fatigue

Walking Across Time

Chatper Three – Fatigue

"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated to the still portrait. No movement. Disappointed, Harry put the portrait into his backpack. The absence of magic had taken a toll on magical objects and it appeared the effects were irreversible.

On the bright side, being back in this magically plentiful era made Harry feel reinvigorated. Here, he didn't have to filtrate his oxygen from toxic fumes. He didn't have to use crystals to scrounge for whatever magic was left. Harry remembered how he had forcefully pulled the magic out of several rooms and paintings in what was left of Hogwarts. The magic would have leaked out anyways but Harry still felt uncomfortable with his theft.

Harry pushed his hair back, feeling his scar.

"It's still there," he murmured. "An everlasting curse."

The train came to a stop and Harry could hear someone yelling "First-years over here!'

Harry pointed to his backpack and transfigured it into a dark worn trunk. He didn't want to appear too conspicuous, for now anyway. Casting a notice-me-not charm on himself, he stepped out of the compartment and headed outside. He'd go see Headmaster Dippet privately to get sorted.

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The only sounds that could be heard in Hogwarts' dungeons were Harry's light steps as he walked towards the Slytherin common room. His hands were tucked in his pockets and he was chewing his bottom lip bloody.

"Are you lost, Potter?" a voice said from the shadows.

Harry was startled but quickly regained his composure.

"I was taking a walk," Harry said. "What are you doing out so late, Riddle?"

"I should be asking you that," Riddle said, his eyes barring into Harry. "As Headboy, I have rounds to make."

"Say Riddle, you were wearing spectacles that time on the train," Harry said, abruptly changing the subject. "How come you don't seem to need them at school?"

If Riddle found the question strange he didn't show it. "There are vision charms that I can apply during the school year."

"Do they have to be renewed every day?" Harry asked, definitely interested now.

Riddle nodded. "Now that I've answered your nosy question, Potter, get back to the common room before I give you detention."

Harry cocked his head to the side and looked at Riddle curiously. Harry was remembering that Voldemort had lived in an orphanage during the summer. It would have likely been extremely difficult if not impossible to apply daily charms without being discovered as a "freak." Nevertheless, that vision charm would be dead useful. Harry would have to get his hands on it one way or another.

Without another word, Harry walked down the hallway that led to the Slytherin common room.

Riddle stared at the retreating back of the black-haired teenager, still wondering what the heck the new transfer student had been up to.

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Harry looked young. He had always looked young. So when Hogwart's' current Headmaster had placed him in sixth-year, Harry had not objected. Harry was sharing a room with a Nott. If he wasn't mistaken, this Nott was to marry late in his life and become the father of one Theodore Nott. This wouldn't happen for another forty years or so and Harry didn't think too much about it.

What Harry did want to know was how close to Riddle Edward Nott was. Harry knew that the future Edward Nott belonged to Voldemort's inner circle but this one appeared to only be a satellite of Riddle's Slytherin crowd.

"So many faces I've never seen," Harry thought as he returned to the common room. He curled up in front of the fire and pulled out a book. "I wonder if Riddle's present crowd is composed of the same masked Death Eaters of the future."

He'd have to look into it. For now, Harry enjoyed the warmth of the fire and greedily immersed himself into the book he had just acquired from the library. Dark Arts had yet to be banned at Hogwarts in 1939 and Harry intended to make full use of his time here.

Harry really out to start on preparing that perfect murder.

Harry had barely read a page when he heard a cough. Ignoring the interruption, Harry continued to read, silently musing about whether this world was actually a parallel world or truly the past of his world. The mechanics of time traveling had always baffled him despite his enormous experience with time-turners.

The person coughed again, this time a little louder. Harry couldn't really pretend not to hear them. He turned his head slightly around and found himself looking at a very young boy with tousled dark chocolate hair—a first-year most likely. He was wearing his pyjamas and holding a green blankie with broom patterns. His bare feet were fidgeting on the cold floor of the common room.

"What are you reading?" the boy asked curiously while fingering his blankie.

"A book," Harry said, surprised and unsure about the kid.

"I can see that," the boy said. "What's the title?"

"What exactly are you doing out here at this hour?" Harry demanded suspiciously. What was it and everyone asking what he was reading? First Riddle on the train and now this icky little first-year.

The boy made his way towards Harry without the latter ever taking his eyes off the kid. No child was ever a child in Slytherin and it wouldn't do to relax his guard just because there was a kid in pyjamas asking him innocent questions.

"That's a herbologist's journal on cursed plants," the kid said, plopping himself on the rug in front of Harry. "Can you read me a passage?"

Harry looked at him shrewdly. "There are several copies of this book in the library."

"I can't decipher their writings," the young boy shrugged. He wrapped his broom-patterned blankie around himself and looked at Harry expectantly. His uncanny blue eyes seemed familiar but Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

Harry frowned but he started reading out loud the passage he had been perusing before the first-year had interrupted him. "_The night blooming cereus is a flower that can be found under a death-infested tree. The flower blooms the third night after a full moon and its seed must be…_"

Tom Riddle entered the Slytherin common room to the sight of the new transfer student reading to a first year.

At the sight of the Headboy, the young boy lost his innocent demeanour and smiled maliciously. "Why, hello cousin," he greeted Riddle. "Still working on being the Headmaster's lapdog?"

"Junior, still up I see," Riddle replied mockingly. "How's Morphin? I hear Azkaban gets chilly at this time of the year."

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Harry was in a state of shock. Riddle had a cousin? Morphin Gaunt had a son?

_I don't recall ever hearing about Morphin having a son_, Harry thought at a furious speed. _I'm sure Dumbledore told me that Voldemort was the last of his line. Maybe this Gaunt kid never survived to adulthood? That's highly possible…_

"Don't call me junior," the young boy hissed. "I know what you did and I'll get you for it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Riddle said. He was already walking towards the stairs leading to the dormitories. "You might want to be careful about that blankie though, things are so easily lost these days." He disappeared up the stairs after his veiled threat.

The boy clutched his blankie and was shivering with rage. He then remembered he wasn't alone though and was back to being an ickle first year in the instant it took him to turn around and look at Harry.

"My cousin and I don't always get along," he said sweetly. But Harry had seen enough. His hunch that the boy was uncanny had been right. Harry remembered that the Gaunts' had a streak of violence running in their blood. Centuries of inbreeding had made sure that the streak became a dominant one. He wondered how this one had escaped the decidedly terrible looks of the Gaunt family.

"So you're a Gaunt," Harry said, appearing nonplussed. "Your lineage is relatively pure, as I recall."

"Except for him," the boy said pouting. "He's a nasty half-blood. But he's not recognized in the family tree."

Harry would have to find out more if he was to figure out the details that had never made their way to his era.

"I see," Harry said. The boy might prove useful late on. "Do you want me to read you the rest of the entry?"

"Yes!" they boy said enthusiastically and sat back down, appearing to have already forgotten his spat with the Headboy. "My name's Augustus, by the way. Augustus Marvolo Gaunt."

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Author's Note: There is a point to the Gaunt kid, I swear! What color was Riddle's eyes originally before they turned red and all? I don't think it's mentioned in CoS is it?


	4. Believe

Walking Across Time

Chapter Four - Believe

"I noticed you're pretty close to Riddle," Harry said to the seventh-year who was sitting across from him at the Slytherin breakfast table.

The boy puffed up immediately. Riddle had some influence around here.

_Easy prey_, smirked Harry. _A nice word here, a compliment there and he'll be dying to tell me all his secrets._

"You must be privy to all these interesting facets of him," Harry added. "Did you know him as a first-year?"

"Riddle wasn't really well tolerated, much less liked when he first came to Hogwarts," the seventh-year whispered to Harry. "We all thought he was, you know, one of _them_."

"Would you care to elaborate," Harry raised an eyebrow. "What made you think he was a muggle-born?"

"He didn't know anything about the wizarding world," the seventh-year continued. "He didn't know about chocolate frogs, exploding snaps or even quidditch!"

"What kind of life did he live to be so oblivious to all that?" Harry prodded.

"Imagine, the heir of Slytherin raised in a Muggle orphanage!" the seventh-year exclaimed in outrage before quieting down in fear that Riddle would hear him. He lowered his head. "It's no wonder he's strange sometimes."

"What about Augustus?" Harry asked. "He doesn't seem to have ever approached any Muggles."

"Oh, you mean Auggie?" the seventh-year said expansively. "I've know him since he was a babe—a true pureblood that one. One sometimes wonders how Riddle and him could've turned out so differently. Auggie is the sweetest most polite first-year. Riddle's polite too, but scary, you know."

Harry didn't really think Augustus Gaunt was a sweet boy, especially not after having seen the first-year switch from a furious face to an innocent one in less time than you could say 'quidditch.' In fact, Harry thought Riddle and the Gaunt kid were pretty similar. But Harry didn't comment and let the Slytherin continue on with his tale.

"Auggie hasn't been too well these days. I'm sure you know how Morphin Gaunt was sent to Azkaban," the Slytherin went on as if it were normal news to Harry. "Auggie hasn't been taking it well. He told me he has trouble sleeping."

_That's cause he's plotting revenge_, Harry thought. _Just like me._

"I was getting the impression that Riddle and Augustus did not get along that well," Harry commented.

"Yes, that's because, heir of Slytherin or not, Riddle's still a halfblood, and—"

Whatever the Slytherin was about to say never made it out of his mouth as a modified 'silencio' forced his mouth shut. His lips were glued.

"So you do have a sneaky side aside from your quirky Ravenclaw style," Riddle said into Harry's ear. "I was beginning to wonder how you'd manage to convince the Sorting Hat to let you into the house of snakes."

Harry froze but forced himself to be calm. Riddle took the spell off the Slytherin who had been talking. The seventh-year squeaked and immediately started shoving bacon in his mouth. Riddle sat on Harry's right and helped himself to pumpkin juice.

"How much did you hear?" Harry said as nonchalantly as he could.

"Enough," Riddle said cryptically. He sipped on his pumpkin juice before pouring a cup of pumpkin juice and handing it to Harry. "Why are you so interested in me and Augustus?"

"I didn't learn anything new from you friend there, if that's what you want to know," Harry said, pushing the pumpkin juice Riddle had offered him around.

"I see," Riddle said darkly. "I'll have you know not to mess with things that may be too much for you to handle. A painting may fall on you or maybe you may end drinking poison instead of that pumpkin juice you're holding. All accidentally, of course."

Harry let go of the cup immediately.

"You said similar things to Augustus, as I recall," Harry drawled, sounding more confident than he felt. "I'm started to think that a lot of accidents happen around you. I didn't know you were so prone to clumsiness, Riddle."

In a nest of snakes, survival depends on one establishing oneself as predator and not prey.

"I'll be real careful then," Riddle smiled frostily. He grabbed a slice of bread and got up. "I'll be seeing you around, Potter."

"You can count on it," Harry said, his back already turned to Riddle and sniffing at the pumpkin juice, wondering if there really was poison in the drink.

Harry chewed on his food mechanically.

_I'll have to be more discrete next time,_ he thought. _Now, how should I kill him? Wait, he just told me how!_

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"Are you planning a murder, Harry?" Augustus asked the older boy.

"What makes you think that?" Harry said, surprised yet again by the ickle first-year. Harry was looking through spellbooks that were relatively on the light side. Nothing dark or murderous was in them, but the spells inside could easily be applied to murder. Take _wingardium leviosa_, for an example…

"Every book I've seen you with can have lethal applications," Augustus said.

"That's because every spell can have lethal applications, don't you think?" Harry countered. "It doesn't mean I'm having murderous thoughts."

Augustus scratched his head. "You've got a point, Harry, but still…"

"Why did you ask me about murder?" Harry sighed.

"Because I can help you," Augustus said quite seriously. "I want Riddle dead too."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. _Had he been so transparent in his thoughts? Had he been truly found out by a _first-year_ albeit a perceptive one?_

"Again, what makes you think that?" Harry said.

"The fact that you're not denying it?" the boy said, the corner of his lip lifting. "I've seen you throw these dark looks at my cousin when you thought no one was watching you."

"And please, do tell me why would you, of all people, want your cousin dead?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you been reading the prophet?" Augustus frowned. "I thought it was obvious."

"What exactly makes you think Riddle had something to do with your father's imprisonment?" Harry asked.

"Because he has every motive! With my father out of the way, he only needs to get rid of me to have access to the family fortune and heirlooms," Augustus spat. "He's simply a disgusting halfblood gold-digger. That's why we should never let them into our society!"

"No need to get all excited now," Harry said calmly watching the boy regain his mask of innocence. Harry was curious at why the boy so easily let his mask down in front of him. From what Harry had learned, Augustus had been playing sweet and cute for most of his life, including in front of people he had known for years. "Why don't you tell me what you think happened?"

"He framed my father for the death of a Muggle, as if Father would be so stupid as to use his own wand to do the deed!" Augustus said. "I know it was Riddle."

"Why don't you go to higher authority than me? This really doesn't concern me, you know," Harry said despite his very real interest.

"You look at Riddle the same way I do," Augustus repeated. "I can recognize it because it's the same loathing I feel every day of my life. And anyways, lapdog that he is, Riddle will just get a slap on the wrist and get away with it! I want him dead."

"You don't call him Tom?" Harry asked.

"He's like an animal, why should I use the given name of a Muggle," Augustus said, twisting his mouth as if he had just tasted something particularly nasty.

"Find me a cereus," Harry said suddenly. "I'll do what I can after."

Augustus stared at the older boy and then flashed Harry with his radiant sunshiny smile.

"Thank you, Harry!" he said. "I knew I could count on you!"

After Augustus had left for class, Harry sat in the corner of the library and thought. Augustus' story was flawless but some things weren't right. His data from his time was didn't match with this era's happenings. Either this was truly a parallel world with major differences or the past had significant holes in its history.

A girl sneezed behind him. She sneezed again. And then she started crying. Harry needed quiet.

"Wonderful, a sneeze fest," Harry snapped at her. "Here's tissue and please, do me the favour of wiping the snot off your nose before you get it all over me."

"Don't you dare talk to me with that tone you nasty boy!" she said between crying and sneezing. "I was cursed by Riddle. So please shut up while I look for a counter-curse!"

She walked into an isle and involuntarily continued making funny noises with her nose.

"Holy shit," Harry stared. "Was that…Neville's grandmother? And does she also hold a grudge against Riddle?"

Harry sighed. Things weren't getting easier.

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Author's note: will JK really release HP 7 on 07/07/07? It just sounds too good to be true. I'm totally obsessed over this. Book 7 Book 7 it's in my dreams too.


	5. But It's Better if You Do

**A/N: I've replaced chapter five. I didn't like where the plot was heading.**

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Walking Across Time

Chapter Five – But It's Better if You Do

"Should I reveal my ability to converse with snakes and lure him into the Chambers of Secrets?" Harry said to himself. "Certainly not at this stage of my plan."

He looked out the window of the common room. As they were underground, the windows had been spelled to show the illusion of the outside. It was windy and leaves were swirling around, announcing that fall had indeed arrived.

"I could still catch him unaware in the Chamber of secrets…" Harry wrote in invisible ink into a journal similar that absorbed his words. It was double precaution, just in case the book got into the wrong hands. "The basilisk would have to be taken care of."

Strangely enough, Harry had not seen any sign of Moaning Myrtle yet. She was likely to be haunting that Olive girl she hated. "So the bathroom can be deemed a safe entrance."

Harry took out the Marauder's map from his transfigured trunk and sighed when he realized the map had lost its magic in a way similar to Dumbledore's magic.

"I guess I can't really just force power through it, now can I?" Harry muttered angrily. "Stupid muggles. Stupid Voldemort. If they hadn't tried to exterminate each other, I wouldn't have to be here, freezing my ass off in this god-forsaken dungeon, planning the death of the Headboy."

Harry stopped talking suddenly and looked behind him. It seemed like the appropriate moment at which Riddle should walk in and lecture him about trying to kill of other students. He was uncanny in that same way Snape had been during Harry's first-year: always present exactly at the time and place to catch you in flagrant violation of some rule. Fortunately for Harry, no one appeared.

"I'm getting jittery, living around here," Harry said, returning to plan his less-than-perfect murder. "Could I do what he did to his father and Morphin? Kill him and frame it on someone else?"

_Augustus could be framed_, was the first thought that came to Harry's mind. He then dismissed the idea. The mask Augustus presented to the majority of the world would be a difficult one to crack. No one would believe an eleven-year-old had AK'd Tom Riddle, Headboy and extremely talented duellist.

"Unless he didn't use spells but a potion," Harry said. "I shouldn't dismiss potions so readily just because they were useless back in my days."

"On the other hand, potions are easily traceable," Harry said, as he dipped his quill into the ink pot. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing if I make it look as if the potion was brewed with ingredients that first-years have access to."

Harry tried to remember the potions he had learned under the tutelage of Snape. The fact is, he hadn't learned much and later, didn't really see the need to.

"A lethal potion made out of easily accessible ingredients," Harry repeated. He wrote that down in his journal, which he then closed and put back into his trunk. He grabbed a book randomly and left his dormitory room. He headed towards the Great Hall. Supper should have started by now.

The idea came to Harry as he was waiting for the School stairs to move around so he could walk up the stairs leading to the Great Hall. The entire transportation in the school was based on these moving stairs. It would be tricky, but Harry was sure that he could override the safety spells on the stairs.

"RIP: Tom Riddle, Headboy and fellow student, falls to his death in a tragic accident at Hogwarts," Harry said to himself. Taking out his random book on the subject of whomping willows, Harry walked towards the Slytherin table. He still wanted to keep some sort of pretence of a Ravenclaw persona. It made him seem more harmless.

"Nott, Lestrange," he nodded to his fellow Slytherin six-years, as he sat down with them. He acknowledged their greetings and then returned to reading his book as he nibbled on a slice of steamy, freshly baked bread.

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Harry was sitting in his usual couch in front of the fire of the Slytherin common room when Augustus approached him.

"Hi Harry," the boy said, his face all bright and sunshiny. He held out his hands. "I found you the cereus you wanted."

Harry looked at the boy curiously. "Where did you get it? I doubt you went plant snatching in the middle of the night in the Forbidden Forest."

"I asked a seventh-year to get me some," Augustus said. "I think he and Professor Slughorn went picking potion ingredients during the last full moon."

"What did the seventh-year asked in exchange?" Harry frowned.

"Nothing that I couldn't give him," Augustus shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, have you decided on how you're going to complete my assignment?"

"Completing an assignment?" Harry looked at Augustus. Is that what Augustus called killing Riddle? "No. Because you're going to have to do the job yourself."

"But you promised!" Augusted whined. "I even got you the cereus."

"I changed my mind," Harry said. "How are you supposed to learn anything if you always get others to do the job for you."

To any listeners, it sounded like they were discussing homework.

Harry watched Augustus' expression. The boy appeared to be in a petulant mood but Harry was sure he could distinguish a flash of red in his eyes.

"Tell me Augustus, why do you even need me to help?" Harry said. "It's not like I'm the only older student who seems to be under your skilful thumb."

"Age isn't everything," Augustus smiled cryptically.

Harry turned his head away and looked into the roaring fire.

"I can give you anything and everything you want," Augustus whispered. "What do you want, Harry?"

Harry looked at the unchild-like child in front of him. He leaned in and whispered: "Do your dirty jobs yourself and I promise I won't interfere."

"Deal," Augustus said. "Give me back the cereus then."

Harry handed him back the sachet containing the flowers and the seeds.

"You wait and see," Augustus added. He then walked back to where other first-years were practicing levitation spells and asked if he could join them.

Harry wondered if the plot in which Augustus was involved was a lot bigger than just Tom Riddle. Harry shook his head. It didn't really matter to him. Now that he'd gotten the first-year out of his way, Harry was about to proceed with his own plan on getting rid of Riddle.

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Harry sat in his corner of the common room and watched the forerunners of the Death Eaters interact with the rest of the Slytherins. They held their head a little higher, their gaze was just a tad arrogant and they spoke more often than not with a cruel twist of the mouth. They were at the top of the established hierarchy of the house of snakes along with Tom Riddle. And they were certainly not all seventh-years.

"Exactly what Augustus said," Harry surmised. "Age doesn't matter but talent does."

He crouched lower in his sofa, his book still opened in front of him. Tom Riddle was sitting in the middle of the room, a dark leather journal in his hand, apparently oblivious to the people around him. He seemed to be playing court, remaining aloof as his subjects chattered loudly around him.

Harry sighed and left his sofa, returning to his dormitory. He had a tranfiguration essay to complete. He berated himself for not having gone back an extra decade or two when he had used the Tempus Clock. Then he could have gotten rid of Riddle as a baby. A baby choking on his food, catching a deathly cold or tumbling down stairs weren't that hard to accomplish compared to tackling the most brilliant student to go through the halls of Hogwarts since the Founders themselves.

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Harry was bored. Dumbledore certainly had a flair for teaching transfiguration but Harry had learned most of his tricks long ago. Transfiguration was a weapon in Harry's time. The difference between a live man and a dead one was the creativity and ruthlessness to use every means possible to survive.

Something occurred to Harry. He looked up and saw that Dumbledore was at the other end of the class, explaining intricate wand movements to a Hufflepuff.

Harry turned his teacup into a gerbil.

During the war, one of the methods employed to screw up with the enemy was to transfigure their heart into stone or wood. Turning flesh into a nonliving material was often used to kill someone. In Harry's time, battles often ended with whoever managed to keep their body alive through the sheer mental force of keeping themselves from getting transfigured. It wasn't an easy feet. Self-transfiguration was always more difficult than changing the nature of an object or someone else.

Harry concentrated and the gerbil dropped dead. It still worked.

"Why didn't I think of this before," Harry whispered to himself. "Tranfiguration spells can't be as easily traced as charms as they are more focused on intent than on words."

He turned the gerbil back into a teacup and smiled for the first time in a long time.

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Tom Riddle knew something was wrong when the stairs in front of him kept moving. One connected to where he was standing and Tom reluctantly stepped on it.

"They're moving too fast," was his last thought before the stair swung to the other side of the floor with such speed that Riddle was unable to keep himself from smashing into the side of the stairway.

No time to stick his feet to the steps. No time to levitate himself. No time to avoid the crushing wall. No time for a life-saving cushioning spell.

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"Is he dead?" said a voice.

"I don't think so," another voice said. "I think he just hit his head."

Tom grumbled. He was certainly not dead. It took more than that to be rid of him. He had survived seventeen years in an orphanage in which all the residents had been hostile towards him after all. This was certainly nothing compared to the stunts he had endured as a child, before he had learned how to defend himself.

He opened his eyes to the unwelcome sight of Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey hovering over him and sticking their wands all over him.

"Ah, welcome back amongst us, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said. "We were afraid we had lost you for a second."

"How are you feeling, Mr. Riddle?" Madam Pomfrey said. "Drink this, it's a headache potion, and this one, it's a blood replenisher."

Tom thanked the nurse drank the potions. He rubbed his head, trying to force the pain away. He resisted the urge to ask 'what happened?' He hated feeling so dependent and clueless. Fortunately, Dumbledore offered the explanation.

"It seems you had an accident on the moving stairs. Their designs have gotten defective recently and you were caught in the middle of it. We've sent for spellsmiths to come renew the spells on the stairs," Dumbledore said. "It is unfortunate that you found yourself on the stairs at the time the safety spells unravelled."

Tom sat up abruptly. "I'll be going back to my common room then."

Dumbledore nodded. "Students have been confined to their house for the time being. It is unsafe to travel around the castle. You may floo to Professor Slughorn's office and then proceed to the dungeons."

"Don't be foolish, Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey inserted. "Mr. Riddle must stay here for further observations! Mr. Riddle, you must stay here for the rest of the day at least!"

Tom acquiesced and lay back down. Thoughts were rushing through his throbbing head.

The stairs had been rigged. He was sure. It can't have been a coincidence that the safety spells turned off at the exact hour he was doing his night patrol. Anyone could easily get access to the prefect and Headboy patrols. Moreover, Tom himself was aware of the magic surrounding the moving stairs. He was certain that with a little inkling of effort, the magic could be corrupted.

It was without any doubt. Somebody had tried to kill him. That somebody was also going to pay for their attempt.

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TBC


	6. Build God, Then We'll Talk

A/N: IMPORTANT. Previous chapter, CH05, has been REPLACED. The story has taken a complete different turn.

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Chapter Six – Build God, Then We'll Talk

The Slytherins had woken up that morning and had been told by prefects that all classes had been cancelled. They were to stay in the dungeons. When asked what happened, the prefects said that they didn't know either but the instructions had to be followed.

Noticing that the Headboy was missing, most of the students assumed that he and the Headgirl were in the thick of the affair and talking with the professors about whatever had happened.

It was late afternoon now and the Slytherin common room was still ablaze with rumours.

"I bet there's an escaped heliopath in the school," said a fourth-year with golden curls that were bouncing in his excitement. He waved his hands at his fellow year mate. "My mum works at the ministry and she told me that they were breeding them!"

"A heliopath?" an older girl snorted, "The ministry already has enough trouble handling themselves. You seriously think they'd be able to breed heliopaths and still be alive to tell people about it?"

"I think it is a lot more likely that an escaped convict is roaming around Hogwarts," a boy said. "Imagine waking up with a dark form over your head and a knife to your throat!"

"You have way too much imagination," the older girl said. "You must have been reading that Escapee-from-Azkaban story."

"Yeah, so what? It's a good book."

The older girl looked away.

"If a dangerous person was loose around the school, the teachers would have either grouped us all in the Great Hall or at least have an adult watch over us," a girl in Harry's year said. "As it is, the only protection we've got is the password to the common room. I'm thinking that they want to keep us inside."

"That's highly possible," a seventh-year agreed. "They're keeping us from a danger that won't come looking for us but that we could easily step into."

At the other side of the room, near the fire, Riddle's partners in crime were discussing amongst themselves.

"When is Tom going to get here?" a girl with dark eyebrows and a crooked nose scowled. "He must have left mighty early to not be shut here with the rest of us"

"Shut up already, you've been whining ever since we missed potions," an older boy retorted. "I really don't see why you like smelling like you took bath in the sewage system anyway."

"Obviously, some people have neither the patience nor the brains to do well in potions and have to take it out on their more talented classmates," the girl scowled even more deeply, so that her thick eyebrows met between her eyes.

"That's the second time you used that line today," the boy smirked. "Don't you get tired of always repeating the same shit."

"I was not—"

"Eileen," a seventh-year girl silenced her with a look. "Everyone is restless so please abstain yourself from making the situation worse. The same goes for you, Lestrange."

"Get a house-elf to deliver us some cakes and tea while we're waiting for Tom to get back. I'm famished."

"Will do."

Harry Potter sat in his corner of the common room and frowned. What the heck had happened in the castle? Because it was certainly not something _he_ had planned.

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By the time Tom Riddle arrived in front the portrait that hid the entranceway to the Slytherin common room, the sun had long gone down and several had already gone to bed.

Unbeknownst to him, his year-mates and some satellite members of their little posse, were still waiting for him and were starting on their sixth set of tea and cakes.

Tom gave the password and the portrait swung open to reveal scattered groups of students talking amongst themselves. When they saw him, the chattering stopped.

"Tom, you're finally here," Lestrange spoke out. "We've been desperately wanting to know what was happening inside the castle to warrant this general lock-in."

Tom stood straight, his face devoid of expression. "The matter has been dealt with. It is nothing of your concern."

"Awww, Tom," a sixth-year said. "You can tell us! We're all Slytherins here."

"The fact that you're Slytherins thus makes you impervious to gossip?" Tom raised a dark eyebrow. "But very well, the moving stairs' safety spells fell apart late yesterday night. The Headmaster has contracted spellsmiths to renew the spells."

Tom then left to his room without a second glance. The chattering resumed itself in all its glory behind him.

Tom walked into his private room, benefit of being Headboy. He sat down at his desk. He leaned his elbows on the desktop and put his hand around his head. His face contorted into a raging grimace. His eyes flashed, his lips were upturned and his features became so distorted that he no longer bore any resemblance to handsome, polished Tom Riddle.

"Whoever was behind this is going to regret it," he said through gritted teeth. "No one plays Lord Voldemort and gets away with it."

He got up, knocking his chair to the ground. With a wave of his wand, the desk exploded, sending wood shards all over the room.

Breathing loudly, he tried to calm himself. "Revenge, revenge, revenge…"

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Harry frowned at the appearance of Tom Riddle. The Headboy seemed _ruffled_, for a lack of better word. He was then shocked when Riddle announced that the reason the students had been locked in their common room was because the moving stairs had been deemed dangerous.

"But that's my idea!" Harry almost cried out. Harry was still working on transfiguration of specific parts of living material but just because he had one new idea didn't mean he wanted to abandon the old ones, including the cursing of the moving stairs. It seemed someone had beaten him to the game.

"This is odd," Harry thought. He got up and made his way up the dormitory stairs. As he passed the Headboy's room, Harry heard several sequential crashing sounds and then silence. Harry froze.

"Should I take a look?" he bit his lip. "Riddle? You in there?"

No one answered him.

Harry put his hand on the doorknob and turned. The door was unlocked. He walked in. The sight was mind-boggling to say the least.

Dark mahogany wood debris was scattered everywhere. The chair was broken in four pieces and each piece was in a different corner of the room. The mirror had been shattered and the shards littered the floor, shiny little pieces reflecting the light. And here was Tom Riddle, cool and composed, standing in the middle of what seemed like a wild animal had rampaged through. The contrast was just shocking.

"What happened here?" Harry said in amazement.

"I left a window open," Riddle said entirely too calmly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

There were no windows in the dungeons, only fake renditions of them. Harry frowned for the umpteenth time that day. He was liable to get permanent wrinkles between his eyes.

"Word of advice, Riddle," Harry said. "Lock your door and put up some silencing spells next time you have a little _fit_."

"Like I said, I left a window open," frowned Riddle.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of saying anything," Harry drawled as he was leaving. "No one would believe that Hogwart's precious Headboy was destroying school property in fits of rage."

Riddle was silent and only his eyes revealed the dark disturbed thoughts going through his head.

Harry left him still standing in the middle of the rubble and closed the door behind him. He hadn't taken two steps when he heard Riddle mumbling a locking charm followed by 'silencio.'

Harry continued his trek to the room he shared with Nott, a smirk plastered on his face. He had one on Riddle.

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The next morning proved to be a chilly one. Harry reluctantly stepped out of his four-poster bed and walked to the washroom. His feet made almost no sound on the cold floor of the room. He splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth.

Harry put on a thin sweater and dark brown corduroy-pants. As he perused his trunk for a scarf, Harry's hand fell on his invisibility cloak. He looked behind his back and saw that Nott's curtains were still closed. Harry pulled the cloak out and realized that like all his other objects from the future, his cloak had lost its magical properties. It was just a normal cloak now, albeit a slightly more shimmery one.

Harry folded it and put it back into his trunk. He found a dark scarf and wrapped it around his neck. He grabbed his books and headed to the common room.

Riddle and the Slytherin prefects were already there. They were handing maps to the students.

"Class is to be resumed but certain routes have been delimited," Riddle explained. "I was informed that the spellsmiths are still working on a good two-third of the castle's hundreds of stairs. As such, I advise you not to venture into the red sectors. Those remain unsafe."

"You are to go to Slughorn's office and from there you will be floo'd into the Great Hall," Riddle continued.

Harry took a map from one of the prefects and followed several students through the portrait hole. The students walked into to Slughorn's office and Harry promptly abandoned them.

"I want to see those stairs myself," he said and quickly walked to the end of the hallway attached to a stair going up.

"Let's not be rash," he said. He used a spell to make the bottom of his soles adhere to the ground and stepped onto the stair. He crouched down immediately and held the wooden ramp on the side. "HOLY FUCK!"

The stair swung rapidly to the its other location. Had Harry not been holding on and taken precautions, he would certainly have been thrown off the stairway. The second the stair attached itself to the hallway, it stopped moving, giving a false impression of safety.

Harry unclenched his fingers form the ramp and unglued his feet. Shaking slightly, he stepped onto stable floor. He sat there and tried to recuperate from the scare he just had.

So caught up with the mechanics of what had just happened, Harry did not notice the footsteps of an approaching person.

"I thought I said this area was off limits, Potter," Riddle said to him. "You know what they say, a culprit always returns to the scene of the crime."

The Headboy and the sixth-year stared at each other.

"You think I messed with the stairs?" Harry said incredulously. "Why would I risk testing them out then?"

"I don't know, Potter," Riddle said. "You tell me."

"I've never been more innocent in my life," Harry said through clenched teeth. "But that's beside the point. Think what you want, Riddle."

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Potter," Riddle said. "Mark my words, you'll be sorry."

"You told us yourself that the safety spell had unravelled because of they were old," Harry asked. "But you appear to be taking this stair thing extremely personally. You must have suspected someone to have tempered with the stairs all along."

"What are you insinuating, Potter?" Riddle said.

"Tell me, Riddle, did you get caught in one of the stairs during one of your Headboy patrol?" Harry said quietly. "Is that why you were missing for most of the day?"

"It has nothing to do with me," Riddle said. "As Headboy, it is my duty to find out the truth."

"Augustus is right," Harry said, trying to get a rise out of Riddle. "You really do have that Heaboy badge stuck up your arse."

Riddle remained silent and stared at Harry frostily.

"Just so that you know," Harry said. "Had it really been me tempering with those spells, you certainly wouldn't be standing there accusing me."

Harry stalked away, leaving Riddle to ponder on the true intentions of the sixth-year.

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"Sometimes, I just want to take the easy way out," Harry said to Dumbledore's unmoving portrait. "A killing curse would be simple to cast and would have an instantaneous effect."

"Imagine: I walk up to Riddle. I AK him. I run away," Harry said while pointing his wand to a mirror. "Easy, breezy, beautiful. And the job gets done."

"You're likely to get caught if you do that," Augustus snorted from the doorway. "Even a first-year like me wouldn't do something so obvious."

Harry whirled around and the tip of his wand found its way twenty centimetres from the young boy's nose.

"The simpler a plan is, the higher chances it holds for success," Harry said, his wand still pointed at Augustus. "How did you get through the door? First-years don't cover locking chars to the best of my knowledge."

"You locking charms leave a lot to be desired," Augustus shrugged. The first-year folded his arms and waited for Harry to lower his wand. "I can help you kill Riddle and you know it. Why are you so apt at underestimating me?"

"I don't trust you," Harry said succinctly. "Tell me why I shouldn't just obliviate you right now?"

"Like I said, I can help you," Augustus said, his face shaped into his customary smile to convince people he was the cutest most innocent thing in the world. "I have accumulated years of data on Riddle. There's bound to be something that can be useful to you."

Harry remained silent but kept his wand levelled at the first-year.

"You don't have to trust me to work with me," Augustus added. "Here, take my wand if it makes you feel better. It's in my left pocket."

"That won't be necessary," Harry said finally. "Tell me, are you a parseltongue?"

"Yes, it's no secret that it runs in the family," Augustus said. "Will you please lower you wand? I really don't want to lose a piece of my nose. The girls won't think I'm so cute if I do."

"Is Riddle a parseltongue?" Harry asked.

"Yes, like I said, it's a family trait," Augustus spat, disgusted with having to acknowledge Riddle as family. "He does have a nickname though, his friends call him Lord Voldemort."

"Harry, I can get into places you will never be welcomed in," Augustus said, now impatient. "Just tell me what your plan is and I'll help you!"

"I thought you were going to do this on your own," Harry said. "Remember, I said I didn't want to have anything to do with your schemes. I even told you I wouldn't interfere."

Herein lied Harry's problem. His plans were unravelling. Riddle suspected, although for the wrong reasons, that Harry was trying to kill him. Harry was eighty percent sure the Headboy was going to retaliate soon. Harry needed a pre-emptive strike. Harry needed to get Riddle before the latter got him.

"Were you the one that charmed the stairs?" Harry asked abruptly.

"Yes," Augustus admitted. "But it didn't work. I realize that there are a lot of things I still haven't grasped or learned properly. I need you to cast the spells."

"You lack the strength for the more complex spells." Harry understood. "Are you sure you're a first-year?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Augustus smirked.

"All right, swear an oath for me then."

"What are the terms?" Augustus said eagerly.

"Swear that you won't double-cross me," Harry said. "And swear to an oath of silence."

Augustus did so promptly and without a second thought.

"Now go find Riddle and tell him you know where the Chamber of Secrets is," Harry told Augustus. "Tell him you killed _it_."

"That place is a myth." Augustus' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No matter how long I followed Riddle, I could never find the place. How did you find out Harry? Where is it?"

"Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies," Harry said, repeating the Weasly twin mantra. "You'll find out tomorrow if this plan succeeds."

"Very well," Augustus said. "Is that all I tell him?"

"Yes, don't say anything extra," Harry said. "He'll be going to check on _it_ and I'll catch him then. Now go and don't mess up."

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TBC

A/N: Killing someone appears relatively simple. Getting away with it is the part that is slightly more difficult (unless you're OJ). So that's why Harry doesn't just AK Riddle in the middle of the hallway. But seriously, what kind of death is fitting for a murderer?


	7. Say It Right

Walking Across Time

Chapter Seven – Say It Right

Harry knew Riddle was unable to absent himself during the day. His duties and classes kept him from that. Lunch was out too, he and the Headgirl usually met up to discuss issues at hand. He was usually around the Slytherin common room in the evenings consolidating his 'friendships' with purebloods and halfbloods alike.

So that left the supper hour and the hours between curfew and the end of Riddle's patrol. That was the opening in which Riddle would go and check on the basilisk.

Disillusioned and in a bubble-body charm, Harry sat on top of Salazar Slyterin's head and waited for Riddle to show up. Harry passed time in the cold chamber with only the seldom hisses of the basilisk to distract him.

On the fourth day Harry sat waiting, Riddle walked into the chamber. He was casting 'scourgefy's on his school robes. He hissed at the basilisk and muttered something about 'lying angel-faced brats.'

"This had better work," Harry said to himself. He aimed at the wall behind Riddle and yelled "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A green light left his wand and bounced off the wall into the position Riddle had been standing seconds before. Harry had missed his opportunity.

"Rushing in like a Gryffindor," Harry cursed as he jumped off from Salazar's head and ran behind a fallen column. Riddle was already sending lethal curses in his direction.

"_Do you smell him_?" Harry heard Riddle hiss and then curse when the basilisk could not. Harry thanked the gods that he had taken the time to take a pore-blocking potion.

"Augustus, I know you're here," Riddle said as his head rotated, looking for the slightest sign of movement. "Come out now and I might make your death quick."

When no one answered them, Riddle's eyes flashed red. "As you wish. No one will ever find your mangled body."

Harry shivered behind the boulder, his wand held tight in his hand. It was only a matter of time. He had to wait. He heard Riddle approaching. "A little bit closer, just a little more."

Harry leapt up and ran towards one of the chamber's abandoned corridors. Sticking to the walls, he whirled to the left in a three-way tunnel and pressed his wand sequentially against three bricks. The wall turned around and Harry disappeared through it.

Riddle stopped, hearing the sound of moving bricks. He frowned and put his hand to the wall, looking for the telltale cracks of a hidden room. He stepped forward and the trap sprung.

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Harry was surprised when Riddle only grunted in pain. In his experience, people with four stakes sticking out of their abdomen tended to scream until the blood loss made them lose consciousness.

Harry walked up to the hole he had painstakingly dug and then rigged with muggle means.

"I'm surprised you didn't get impaled completely," Harry said to Riddle. "That's the first time I missed."

"Potter, get me out of here," Riddle said through clenched teeth, his forehead sweaty. "Or I will curse you dead. I still have my wand."

"Useless. You're in magicless environment," Harry said. "I made sure of that."

"You think I'm a fool?" Riddle grunted. He waved his wand. Nothing happened. He pointed at Harry. "Avada Ked-davra."

"I'm still standing," Harry said. He sat on the edge of the hole and waited for Riddle to die. Riddle's face was getting paler by the second. He tried to extract himself from the stakes but only managed to impale himself further. He finally just held onto the stakes beside him, keeping his body from further sliding down the stakes.

"That's impossible, there's always magic," Riddle mumbled.

"Not in my time," Harry said clearly. Riddle eyes widened in comprehension and then rolled back into his head. His head slumped back. Riddle's wand fell from his grip. Harry heard a 'clunk' signifying the thirteen-inch yew wand had met ground.

"So that's that," Harry poked Riddle with his foot. "Guess he really is dead. Wait— How the fuck is he still breathing?"

Harry put his hand on the side of the hole and pushed himself into standing position.

"Are you pretending to be dead?" Harry said. "I'm leaving you there until your body starts to rot. Even if you're not dead, you've lost a significant amount of blood. You won't be surviving the night."

Harry stared at Riddle's body in silence. "Payback's a bitch eh?"

Riddle's eyes fluttered open. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Enough," Harry said harshly. "Now die, already!"

"I refuse," Riddle said. He was breathing more quickly now.

"This is too much like a comic book," Harry stared in amazement. "Not only are you not dying, you're getting stronger."

"How did you put up a magicless field?" Riddle winced while trying to break an end of a stake.

"It's a radioactive field," Harry said.

"You're not from this time," Riddle said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Harry said nonetheless.

"Are you telling me this because I'm about to die?" Riddle asked.

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "You're surprisingly resilient. But I should have expected that from Lord Voldemort. Scared shitless of death aren't you?"

"You assume a lot about me," Riddle said. He was about to lose consciousness again.

"I know what you're doing," Harry said. "Your magic won't sustain you that much longer."

"So you knew I was healing myself wandlessly," Riddle laughed cynically and coughed up blood. "You're right, by the way, I'm tiring."

Harry stayed silent.

"Tell me, what did I do that was so horrible that you had to come back in time to right it?" Riddle asked.

"You know what you're about to do, Riddle," Harry said.

"How far did I go?" Riddle asked.

"Think world conquest and total destruction of society as we know it today," Harry frowned. "It took me a lot longer to kill you then."

"Age and experience will always overcome youth and valor," Riddle quoted. "You're not sixteen either, are you?"

"Does it matter?" Harry said impatiently. "I have to get back to bed so will you please kick the bucket?"

Riddle grimaced and stopped breathing.

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Sixty years later.

Harry walked in Diagon Alley. The place was indeed beautiful. Shops were flourishing and people walked by without fear in their eyes.

But it was only half the reality. Diagon Alley, the prosperous side, hid the death and suffering of the current society.

Augustus Marvolo Gaunt was minister of magic. Not only was the persecution of muggles and muggle-born not frowned upon, it was _legal_.

The only reason Diagon Alley was flourishing was because the millions of muggles left had been enslaved and muggle-borns were being treated as elevated slaves.

"I've killed a madman just to have him replaced by another," Harry stared. He put his hand to his forehead and started to laugh hysterically. People walking on the street frowned at him and walked away.

"So I killed the wrong man," Harry said. "No matter, I can kill another."

He looked in his backpack and took out his Tempus Clock, turning it six times. He disappeared in a flash.

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Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing over the hole with was holding Riddle speared with four stakes. Harry realized that Riddle had just fallen into the hole seconds ago.

"Potter? Where's Augustus?" Riddle breathed harshly. His eyes bulged as he tried to push himself out of the stake. He tried to use his wand to no avail. "I'm going to kill the both of you."

"Not in your condition," Harry said. "Want my help or not?"

"Your help?" Riddle spat. "You set up this trap yourself! Why is my wand not working?"

"The entrance was open and I was curious so I came in and got here," Harry lied. He didn't know if he was going to get away with this or not. "You want my help or not."

"Pull me out of here," Riddle grunted.

Harry stuck his hand into the hole and pulled out what seemed a rock. He threw it far down the tunnel. He pointed his wand at Riddle and levitated him out of the hole. Riddle cringe as he painfully slid up the stake. Harry deposited Riddle on the cool floor of the chamber.

"You're losing blood too fast," Harry said. "I can't heal this level of damage. We have to get you to the hospital wing."

"No," Riddle said harshly. He put his hand on his stomach.

"Just so that you know, there's another four holes on the back of your abdomen," Harry said. "You can't stop this kind of flow by just pressing on them."

"Get me my wand, I dropped it in the hole," Riddle said, his eyes closed.

Harry accio'd the wand and handed it to Riddle cautiously. It wouldn't be unlike Riddle to turn around and AK Harry.

Fortunately for Harry, Riddle simply pointed the wand at himself and murmured advanced healing spells. Harry watched amazed as blood vessels re-grew, tissues connected and skin meshed.

"Potter, can you make a blood replenishing potion?" Riddle asked. His eyelids were shut, showing his exhaustion from the highly advanced magic he had just performed.

"I can't brew a sleeping potions properly, you really think I can brew a blood replenishing potion?" Harry snorted. "I'll steal one from the hospital wing. I can at least recognize it."

Harry was back in ten minutes and he handed the potion to Riddle who drunk it. Riddle rested on the floor for a few minutes. Harry fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Riddle then turned his head and pointed his wand at Harry's face. "Now tell me what the heck you were doing down here before I kill you?"

"How the hell am I supposed to talk myself out of this one," Harry thought nervously.

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TBC

A/N: watch Riddle die again in the next chapter! Just kidding.


	8. The Ghost of Me

_Riddle then turned his head and pointed his wand at Harry's face. "Now tell me what the heck you were doing down here before I kill you?"_

"_How the hell am I supposed to talk myself out of this one," Harry thought nervously._

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Walking Across Time

Chapter Eight – The Ghost of Me

"Must I repeat myself, Potter?" Riddle said, his wand still pointed at Harry. Harry just stared. "It seems I must. Tell me what the heck you're doing down here before I kill you?"

It was sort of eerie how Riddle was lying on his side, his body still weak from being impaled on four stakes, and could still summon this air of authority and fear.

"Like I said, I walked into the open entrance in the bathroom and it led me here," Harry gulped. "Hearing a noise, I came here and saw you."

His story did not even sound plausible to himself. There were too many holes. Harry knew it. Riddle knew it. And Harry knew Riddle knew it.

"Let me point out the problems in your story," Riddle began. "You managed to get past both the wards and the basilisk. You found your way around this tunnel. You heard me from that far? No, I think not. In fact, I think you were the one leading me on, Potter."

"I—" Harry started but was interrupted by Riddle.

"Each separate feat you achieved is improbable. Together, it's nearly impossible. You had outside help," Riddle concluded, his wand still pointed menacingly. "Tell me who and I might spare you—for now."

Harry's breathing slowed and his face regained some colour. Riddle had almost convinced Harry that he had no other options but to fess up – the keyword being almost.

"You don't seem to understand the position you are in, Potter," Riddle said.

"No, it is you who is fooled into thinking that you sitting above me," Harry said, gaining back his confidence. "You've been hurt. You had to heal yourself. I sincerely doubt you have the magical strength to back your threat up."

In addition, unknowingly to Riddle, Harry had stalled long enough to manage to hide another radioactive element around them and if Riddle did try to curse him, the spell would not leave the wand.

"In a hand-to-hand combat, I'd say you'd also be at a disadvantage as you are currently incapacitated from your healing trance," Harry reasoned. Riddle paled significantly realizing that Harry had summoned the current situation quite accurately.

Harry pulled out his wand. Riddle, oblivious to the magic dampening field, shivered in expectation of the worst. Harry had allowed him to live, yes, but this only served to prove how little choice Riddle had on his own fate.

"I'll be making the calls now, Riddle."

Harry's wand was pointed at Riddle's throat. Riddle's wand mirrored Harry's. Riddle's magic, however, would not back him in a duel, as his magical levels were severely depleted from having to heal himself from the impalement incident.

"What are your intentions, Potter?" Riddle said, suspicion in his voice.

"My intention is to tell you the truth," Harry said quietly but it seemed loud in the silence of the Chamber. A plan was rapidly forming in Harry's mind.

"How am I suppose to know you're not lying," Riddle said, as he shifted painfully from his position. Despite his pain, he kept his wand focused on Harry.

"It depends on the lie and on the proof to back it up," Harry said.

"So it is a lie."

"No, just listen," Harry groaned. "I know who you are Riddle. I also know who you're going to become. Unfortunately, I also know about all the misery that you will bring."

"You're a Seer?" Riddle sneered. "I think divination is a subject that should have been banned from Hogwarts long ago."

"So why did you set your sights on a prophecy years from now," Harry had wanted to say. But he couldn't as the event hadn't yet occurred, and because this Riddle wasn't yet the paranoid hacked-up soul that Voldemort later was.

"I'm not a Seer," Harry said. "I'm a time-traveler."

"That's original," Riddle said, clearly not believing him. "When are you from? Three hours later?"

"No, I'm from six decades later," Harry said, frustrated that Riddle wasn't taking him seriously. "Let me show you. Try to shoot a spell at me. Do it. I won't retaliate."

Riddle looked at him suspiciously, as if not believing Harry's stupidity. "If you insist, I will—STUPEFY!"

Riddle's wand emitted a red glow at the tip but the spell refused to shoot out. Riddle shook his wand. "Stufefy! Reducto! Avada Kedavra!"

The spells seemed stuck.

"What the hell did you do, Potter?"

"This is what I call a magicless zone—a present from the future," Harry explained, although he wasn't about to tell Riddle the secret behind it. "You won't be able to cast any spells inside the shield."

"Maybe I just can't cast because I'm magically-drained," Riddle retorted. "You're not going to win by playing mind games with me."

"Alright, how about I give you some information about your personal life," Harry said. He went on to talk about the Gaunts, half-bloods, Death Eaters and the name Voldemort. Harry tried to hide as many references to the future as he could.

"So you know of my activities around Hogwarts," Riddle said. "That doesn't mean anything. Infiltration into groups happens all the time."

"Let me try another way then," Harry said. "I've killed you once already. I can do it again."

"Well excuse me, I feel very much alive right now," Riddle sneered. "Unless you're about to AK me soon."

"I'm a time-traveler," Harry gritted his teeth, although he realized that Riddle wouldn't be one to accept ideas all that suddenly. "I saw a future without your interference and realized it wasn't much better."

"Why? Dumbledore was leading a house-elf rebellion?" Riddle said sacarstically.

"Worse, Augustus was Minister of Magic and had reduced non-purebloods to slavery."

"That's not an awfully bad idea," Riddle said.

"Do try to remember that you're half-blood too," Harry said. "In that future, Tom Riddle is a decaying shish-kebab in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Assuming all that you're saying is truth, where do I come in?" Riddle asked.

"I want a better future and I'm thinking that killing you is not going solve my problems," Harry said. "There will be other Dark Lords or power-hungry warmongers. It's to my own advantage to have you alive."

"What do you gain from telling me all this?" Riddle said, finally. "What's keeping you from killing Augustus and then me after you've disposed of him?"

"The fact that you would be much more useful alive," Harry repeated without hesitation. "And because I think you're different from the original Voldemort of my timeline. There's a certain discrepancy in your existence and that of Augustus."

"You're thinking that Augustus took my place as Voldemort?" Riddle said, aghast. "You really think that shrimp, pureblood supremacist and inbred horror could best me in a duel and in politics?"

"I used to think that but now, I'm not so sure," Harry said. "I think you haven't gone through the transformation to become Voldemort yet so you're still Tom Riddle. Now I expect you to be curious about how powerful Voldemort became. But I shall discourage you from taking this path. Let me tell you what happened to my timeline's Voldemort."

"Voldemort's death was sad, pathetic and very much deserved. He suffered much and died in agony." Harry went on to describe the details and humiliation that had accompanied Voldemort's death and thus effectively convinced Riddle that Dark Lords had better be Dark Lords that didn't split their soul.

"One more thing," Harry said to Riddle who was frowning both in fear and in distaste. "You think that you're all powerful but you need to realize that there are people stronger than you in this world. I am more powerful than you magically. Augustus outstrips you in terms of politics and bloodline. In addition, he has many more allies than you do."

Riddle snorted at the last one.

"You have no idea how many people fear and abhor you in this school, Riddle. Take the Longbottom girl, for one. Your at the top of her hate list," Harry said. "You have charmed the teachers but have neglected your fellow students—some who will hold a grudge a lifetime. You also underestimate Augustus because he is eleven and has a sweet face. Let me tell you that he outstrips you in terms of leadership. He charms and manipulates people to follow him. You do so by inducing fear in you followers. The difference? His followers will follow him into death and yours will abandon you."

"The cornered rat is the most dangerous one," Riddle whispered to himself. "I do not inspire loyalty as I thought I did."

"Still, the identity of my timeline's Voldemort is irrelevant for this currant timeline," Harry shrugged.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, chances are, either one of you will turn out to be Voldemort-like. I'm trying to prevent that from happening," Harry explained. "Without having to rely on assassination, if possible."

"Technically you've killed me once, already," Riddle sneered.

"Technically I've killed you more than once, Riddle," Harry said, the corner of his lips twitching.

Riddle paled.

"Now, you can be my ally or my opponent." Harry twirled his wand. "Swear it with a Wizards' Oath. Mind you, I'll give you the formulation."

Riddle looked at Harry, his eyebrows slowly shaping into a scowl.

Harry stared back. "You can die now or you can die later. Now choose."

Riddle gulped and answered. "Later."

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Riddled walked quickly in the hallways, his lips pursed and his eyes mere slits, signs that betrayed his anger. Harry strolled beside him, his face shaped into a mask of indifference.

Riddle was fuming because Harry had coerced him into agreeing to let go of the so-called 'accident' in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry was hiding whatever he was thinking because he was plotting the double murder of Riddle and Augustus. Harry knew that Riddle didn't really believe his tales of time-travelling, but for now, it was in their best interests to cooperate, especially since Riddle had sworn a Wizard's Oath to help Harry.

"How do you plan on disposing of my sweet little cousin?" Riddle said venomously, still not over the fact that Harry had managed to score a kill on him. "Offer him to throw himself on a stake? Convince him that poison is good for his health?"

"Your attempts at being sarcastic are falling rather flat, Riddle," Harry said as he checked around the corner to make sure the hallway was empty before signalling to Riddle to proceed. "I'm going to make Augustus disappear."

"So you're just going to vanish him?" Riddle said, his hands stuck in his pockets. "The sweet little tyke isn't exactly a gerbil-sized animal you can vanish with a wave of your wand, Potter. Didn't they teach you anything in the future?"

"They taught me how to shut up," Harry snapped at Riddle. "Will you quit complaining? This is for your own good as well as mine!"

"My own good? You've killed me once—more if what you say is true," Riddle retorted. "Anything you say or do is suspicious at the least."

"You know, I've never seen you loose your cool in such an abysmal way," Harry said coldly. "I have to say I'm slightly disappointed."

"Dying will do that to you," Riddle snarled. "You really should try it."

Harry kept his face impassive. "I—"

"How old are you in reality? You're not sixteen, are you?" Riddle interrupted. "You're too reckless to be a true Slytherin and yet you show the skill and cunning of wizards thrice my age. You never even told me how you got into the Chambers."

"I'm old enough. And I've seen enough," Harry said shortly. "As for the Chamber of Secrets and my identity, those are stories for another day. Now shut up, here he comes."

The two stood back to a wall, waiting for their prey to turn the corner.

"Well that was a restful sleep! Why is it so dark in here?" a voice from Harry's pocket said.

Both Riddle and Harry startled at the familiar voice.

"What the heck? Oh shit, this really isn't the time for him to start acting up," Harry moaned, as he pulled Dumbledore's portrait out of his pocket.

Harry frowned at Dumbledore's portrait, wondering what had gotten the magic to regenerate itself.

"Last time I checked you were still in my trunk and silent. How the hell did you get into my pocket? This is such a bad time. _Silencio_."

"He's coming," Riddle hissed, pulling on Harry's sleeve.

"I know, I can hear his footsteps," Harry hissed back angrily.

"And I can hear the both of you very clearly," Augustus said walking up to them, holding two wands pointing at the two older boys. "Planning my death, guys?"

"This was so badly done," Harry groaned, running his hand through his hair. He put his hands up. "You got us, Augustus. You totally got us."

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TBC

Author's Note: hey hey hey…

Teaser:

"What's your plan, now, mister time-traveler?" Riddle sneered.

"I'm going to frame you for the murder of Augustus," Harry said simply.


	9. Nails for Breakfast

"_And I can hear the both of you very clearly," Augustus said walking up to them, holding two wands pointing at the two older boys. "Planning my death, guys?"_

"_This was so badly done," Harry groaned, running his hand through his hair. He put his hands up. "You got us, Augustus. You totally got us."_

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Walking Across Time

Chapter Nine – Nails for Breakfast

The three were engaged in a staring contest. Augustus had two wands out while Harry and Riddle's wand were still in their pockets. They could win if they managed to draw before Augustus' spell hit them.

Had Augustus only had one wand, things might have been simpler.

"Good job, Harry," Augustus said as he lowered one of the wands. "We've got the wee-bit mudblood Headboy cornered now."

Harry startled but rapidly composed himself. He glanced at Riddle and decided to play along with Augustus.

"Yes, I caught him in this classroom and convinced him I was going to help him. I didn't say I was going to help him die faster."

Augustus laughed in his high-pitched voice although nothing was funny. He tossed the second wand to Harry. "Here, return this to Miss Longbottom, will you?"

Harry looked at him curiously.

"I borrowed it from her, let's say," Augustus laughed in his young voice. "She thinks Tom here is on a quest to persecute her now."

Augustus turned his attention back onto his older cousin and said in his overly sweet innocent voice: "So how does it feel to be under my thumb, cousin?"

"You were on this the whole time, Potter?" Riddle said, his teeth clenched. "I should have known not to trust you."

"Harry, take his wand from him," Augustus ordered.

Harry retrieved the wand and now was holding three wands, his own and two others.

Riddle looked surprisingly resigned.

As Augustus continued to taunt his cousin, Harry managed to point one of his wands at Augustus and murmur a spell.

The blue spell left his wand and hit Augustus. It was disgustingly simple. Augustus went down, a surprised look on his young pale face.

Riddle stared.

"Ever heard of that to fool your enemies, you've got to fool your friends first," Harry said. "I'm not sure why he actually believed we were still working together though."

Riddle chewed the end of his wand inelegantly.

"Not that you're my friend or anything," Harry added as a second thought.

"I simply can't believe how your double betrayal thing actually worked out," Riddle said to Harry. "I thought him cleverer than this."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he thought that my hatred of you went beyond any form of self-preservation?"

"Experience and treachery will always prevail over youth and valor," Riddle quoted. "I can't wait to be Dumbledore's age."

"Um. Then I must be really wise," Harry said in a serious tone as he prodded Augustus' ribs with his right foot, testing to see if the boy was really dead and not faking it. "But seriously, what experience and valor? We just got disgustingly lucky that Augustus somehow trusted me to hand you over like that."

"You lie. You can't seriously be that old," Riddle sneered, ignoring Harry's point on Augustus.

"And I'm not, thank god," Harry said, with a thin smile. "I don't even want to think how I'll be like when I get to his age. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better just to die before you hit that spot of senility."

"Death should never be an option," Riddle looked at Harry contemptuously. "Only the weak succumb to the failing of their mental and physical abilities."

"Technically speaking, again, you have already failed yourself," Harry said, referring to the little incident of in the Chamber of Secrets.

"I did not succumb to my own weakness but to your treacherous manipulation of the situation I found myself in," Riddle glared. "I would never let myself die purposely."

"The Great Riddle suffers an unfortunate accident in the girls' bathroom, then," Harry smirked. His eyes widened suddenly, an idea popping into his mind.

"Why don't we just throw Augustus' body into the Chamber and let your pet take care of the corpse?" Harry said, preparing himself to use the levitation spell.

Riddle chewed on the end of his wand in thought before replying. "That's not a bad idea, Potter. In fact, I'll call the basilisk myself."

"As if anyone else could calmly chat up the basilisk and survive the encounter," Harry muttered.

"And he will rest eternally in the Chamber," Riddle laughed in his cold high voice, ignoring Harry's barb and reminding Harry of the Riddle of his second year.

"Well, I also thought of chopping the little tyke here into gerbil-sized pieces and then vanishing them separately but this will be a…cleaner job," Harry surmised.

"You have a bloodthirsty mind," Riddle commented.

"But not as psychotic as yours," Harry retorted. He levitated the small body and turned to Riddle. "Is there a closer entrance to the Chamber? Walking around with a dead body floating behind me isn't the most subtle thing to do around here."

Riddle seemed to be loath to divulge any more information on the Chamber but he eventually shrugged and pointed out a location that was two corridors away.

"Another girls' bathroom…" Harry sighed. "I should have known. You go scout the area and I'll bring up the rear with the floating body."

Riddle complied and marched to the corner of the hallway to peer around it. Painstakingly slowly, the two Slytherins made their way to the bathroom. Upon entering it, they were relieved to find it empty. Although, what girl would go to the other side of the school to pee instead of using the one in their dormitories was beyond their mind…

Harry waited for Riddle to hiss the entrance to open. He then unceremoniously sent Augustus' body tumbling down.

"So that's done," Harry couldn't help but say out loud to the annoyance of Riddle, who steered away from the entrance. "Augustus is really dead."

"Five points to Slytherin for pointing out the obvious," Riddle said, in almost amusement. He hissed for the entrance to close.

"Headboys can give house points?"

"They can."

"Ah but it's useless for you to give points to your own house, because if everything goes according to my plan, you won't be around to savour the victory," Harry said, matter-of-factly.

"So you really were planning to kill me after getting rid of the brat in the Chambers," Riddle said coldy, already slowly backing to the door.

Harry barked a laugh. "I didn't really need you, you know."

Harry demonstrated his own parseltongue abilities to open the entrance once more. Riddle nearly jumped as he heard the familiar sibilants.

"Are you me from the future?" Riddle said, fear in his eyes.

"And that wins the prize of the most stupid thing you've said all night," Harry bent over, laughing hysterically. "I happen to have the ability is all, haha. The expression on your face is priceless."

Riddle almost squirmed uncomfortably but he quickly composed his features into his usual cold, indifferent façade—only to glower seconds later at Harry for continuing to laugh.

"Right so you've gotten rid of Augustus," Riddle said, trying to stir the subject away from his ridiculous jumping to conclusions. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to convince you to come back to the future with me," Harry said finally, as he wiped the tears from his eyes

"Why would I be interested in that?" Riddle glared at Harry. "From what you told me, the future is bleak and disgusting. I'd much rather make my own way to become Lord Voldemort."

"So you're still planning to be a dark Lord?" Harry asked with his eyes intently fixed on Riddle's. "Despite his humiliating death at the end of his dark lord career?"

"Of course," Riddle said, not sure why he was being so truthful all of a sudden. "I'll be able to avoid it."

"You think too highly of yourself," Harry said. "How foolish."

Harry broke eye contact with Riddle and stared down into the tunnel of the Chamber of Secrets. "It's a long way down."

Riddle shuddered at the thought that Harry would tie him up and throw him down there and leave him to rot. The massive basilisk would attempt to bite the ropes off but end up taking a bite out of Riddle instead…Riddle shook his head at the mental image.

"You wouldn't," Riddle said, calling Harry's bluff. "I still have my wand and you're standing closer to the tunnel than I am."

"True but I had another idea in mind," Harry said as

"What's your plan now, mister time-traveler?" Riddle sneered.

"I'm going to frame you for the murder of Augustus," Harry said simply.

Riddle stared at Harry in disbelief.

"And why would I let you?" Riddle finally said.

"Because despite your words, you know perfectly well how curious you are of the future," Harry reasoned. "But you won't admit it unless I make some sort of deal with you. It's the Slytherin way."

"My reputation will be ruined," Riddle said.

Harry smiled, inwardly knowing that Riddle was going to come along. All Harry would have to do now is placate all of Riddle's misgivings.

"You don't care for your shining Headboy reputation," Harry retorted. "It's always been a temporary thing for your image while you planned to become a fearsome dark lord."

Riddle didn't deny it. "What if your plan screws up and I end up staying here and becoming a fugitive from aurors?"

"Any leak of your little Death Eater activities would end up doing the same," Harry said. "Augustus did say he had several spies inside your groupies."

"He said one."

"One is enough."

Riddle pursed his lips in an uncharacteristic way, as if he was about to make a life-changing decision—which he was doing, truthfully.

"Suppose you're right about my curiosity," Riddle began. "Could I return to this time if the future is a less to be desirable environment?"

"The future will be as bleak and nasty as you imagine it," Harry said forcefully. "But yes, in theory, I could return you here to face the aurors all on your own."

"You use incredibly coercive methods to 'convince' people," Riddle commented.

"I do what I have to do," Harry shrugged. "I need to keep an eye on you to make sure this future doesn't end up the way mine has."

"You'll employ any means to get to your ends," Riddle said.

"Yes."

"You'll kill me if I don't come?"

"Yes, you'll be too much of a threat in this time," Harry said.

"Alright, it's a deal," Riddle finally said. "Go ahead and frame me."

"Give me your wand then," Harry said.

"You've lost it, Potter," Riddle sneered. "As if I'd ever willingly give you my wand even for some dumb plan of yours?"

"We can do this the hard way or the simple way," Harry said amicably, his hand stretched out in front of him, waiting for the thirteen-inch wand.

"Let's suppose I give you my wand to frame me for the murder of my sweet little cousin, what am I suppose to use to defend myself once the aurors come?" Riddle said, his voice quiet but his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Your own wand," Harry said as he rolled his eyes.

"I've said it already: you've lost your mind," Riddle said. "Not that you had much of it in the first place."

Harry pulled out his own wand from his pocket. "I told you the truth, you'll be using your own wand, Voldemort's wand."

Riddle's eyes became horizontal slits as he looked from the thirteen-inch yew wand Harry was holding and the same one he held in his own hand.

"This is your wand from the future, I've been using it," Harry said. "I can't plant it because a simple priori incantatem would destroy any appearance of it being the wand of Tom Riddle, Hogwarts Headboy. There are too many dead people that haven't died yet that would come out of the wand."

Riddle blinked at the implication but he did not bother to comment on his future self's behaviour, knowing very well that he was a murderous bastard at heart.

"Fair enough," Riddle said, finally, handing Harry his wand and taking Voldemort's. "I'll have the same affinity to it and I can also explore the contents of my future self's wand."

"You do that," Harry said. Harry pocketed Riddle's wand and then changed his mind. He threw it into the Chamber's tunnel, where Augustus' body was crumpled up.

"What wand are you going to use now?" Riddle asked before adding sarcastically: "Unless you don't need a wand, because all time-travellers have awesome wandless magic."

"I have a new wand, see?" Harry said, lifting up the wand Augustus had supposedly borrowed from Longbottom.

"I thought it was difficult to use another's wand," Riddle said. "How did you get such good results using my future self's wand?"

"I lost my own wand a long time ago, so now I use whatever wand I can get my hands on," Harry said, cryptically. "I learned to adapt my magic to different cores in order to survive."

Riddle was silent and Harry was sure he was thinking of how Harry had managed to acquire Voldemort's wand in the first palce.

"How are you going to frame me if they aren't going to find this place in the first place?" Riddle asked, breaking the silence. He hissed in parseltongue for the entrance to the Chamber to close.

"I'm counting on a certain somebody to squeal on you," Harry said as he watched the walls move back into their original places.

"Longbottom," Riddle said, catching on.

"Yes, Augustus said she thinks you have her wand," Harry said. "She also hates your guts. In fact, I believe she was working with said little cousin of yours."

"I've never seen them together," Riddle said, frowning. "What do they have in common other than the fact that they both fear me?"

"They don't fear you, they hate you," Harry corrected. "And what they have in common is that they're named after the same person."

"Augusta Longbottom and Augustus Gaunt," Riddle's eyes lit up. "Both pureblood and named after Augustus Longbottom."

"The key is Augustus' mother," Harry said. "Sister to Augusta's mother."

"Yes, the infamous Longbottom sister who disappeared a bit more than a decade ago," Riddle said. "I read it in the Hogwarts archive despite the disappearance having been hushed up by the ministry."

"I didn't know you could get access to that," Harry said, not surprised that Riddle had a myriad of borderline legal sources of information. "Why was it hushed up? I never found out."

"She was raped and impregnated. She was said to have died in childbirth and the child with her. No one knew who the father was but take a guess."

"So said child survived. Morfin was really an ugly character."

"Indeed he was."

"Was that why you framed him for the murder of your father?" Harry asked.

"Augustus told you that, didn't he?" Riddle said as he began to chew the tip of his wand again. "I didn't do it—at least not all by myself."

"Care to explain?"

"I didn't know I had any relation to any one until I got to Hogwarts," Riddle said. "When I found out about my Slytherin ancestry I paid the Gaunts a visit."

"You have to understand that Augustus has rarely done his dirty jobs himself," Riddle said. "He likes his hands clean and his smile sweet."

"Wait, you're saying Augustus killed Riddle senior and blamed it on his own father?" Harry said, incredulous for once.

"That's right. Killing a muggle to him is like killing an insect, It doesn't count as 'dirtying his hands.' Killing his father, a pureblood, would have. By framing Morfin, the trail to the murder of Morfin is cold because there is none in the first place."

"Why did he do it?"

"Revenge."

"It can't be that simple a motive," Harry frowned.

"You're thinking beyond the mind of a ten-year-old with violent tendencies and twisted mind from living with a half-crazed disgusting man," Riddle said. "Augustus might present a sophisticated imaged but he is all but an animal inside. He doesn't see anything beyond his own desires."

"Revenge for his mother?" Harry hazarded a guess.

"I don't know," Riddle said. "Maybe. But I think it was more for himself. He couldn't understand why the Gaunts were living in such pallor while the muggles lived like kings."

"He hated his father for making him go through life like that," Harry understood. "It all sounds like a big soap-opera. By killing the muggles and framing his father he managed to get rid of both in one shot."

Riddle put a finger on the wall and trailed it down the snake design.

"How did he kill the muggles?" Harry asked.

"Avada Kedavra, the most boring and uncreative spell there ever was," Riddle said. "I know because I was there that day, a year ago."

"A ten-year-old used an AK?" Harry said sceptically.

"He must have seen Morfin use it," Riddle shrugged.

"Why were you there?"

"I told you, I had just found out my connection to the Gaunts," Riddle said. "I'm the one who took the wand from Morfin."

"He tried to get you to kill your own family, didn't he," Harry whispered. "Augustus was always adverse to kill on his own."

"Yes, Augustus likes to use others. Just like he wanted to use you to kill me," Riddle said.

"What was your role?"

"I killed my father," Riddle said finally in a slightly bored tone. "Augustus took care of the other two."

"Understandable," Harry said.

"I don't know whether I should be surprised or not at your lack of condemnation," Riddle said.

"I killed the family that raised me," Harry shrugged. "Disgusting pigs of muggles."

Riddle nodded in understanding and didn't ask further.

"So what happened then? I know, now, that Augustus framed Morfin, but why did he accuse you of the deed earlier this year?" Harry asked, trying to connect the loose ends of the story.

"Easy, he's actually supposed to be the heir of Slytherin," Riddle said. "But somehow, my blood ended up to be more potent than his."

"He's a real pureblood and you a halfblood," Harry said, seeing the issue. "And yet, you are more powerful and have the right to more."

"Again, jealousy and revenge motivated his actions," Riddle nodded. "It's actually really petty. On finding out that I had more pull than him, he somehow twisted the facts of our complicity in the Riddle senior murders to put all the blame at my doorstep."

"I think it's just that he was more inbred than you ever were," Harry said. "He was genetically pre-disposed to have an affected mind."

They were both silent for a while, going through all the secrets that had just come to the surface.

"We've drifted off our original topic," Harry broke the silence.

"Yes, how you're going to frame me for the murder of my cousin," Riddle said sardonically, as he expertly twirled his new wand between his fingers.

"Right, so this plan will rest on my hunch that Augusta Longbottom and Augustus were working together," Harry said. "He must have convinced her of your horrible actions and add in the family factor and the fact that she already hates you…you're toast, Riddle."

"I wonder if he wasn't also greedy for the pampered life Longbottom led," Riddle pointed out. "I think he was going to double back on her and frame her for whatever would have happened to me. Or frame you."

"My head is swimming from all this talk of backstabbing but you might be right about his motives," Harry said, putting a hand on his forehead.

"Anyways, I'd like to leave this girls' bathroom," Riddle said. "I don't know what my ancestor was thinking, planting entrances in girls' bathrooms…"

"He must have been a pervert," Harry said as he opened the door and making sure that the corridor was empty of any kind of traffic, be it animal, ghost or human.

Riddle wrinkled his nose at the thought but didn't say anything more. The two of them left the bathroom.

"This is what we're going to do…" Harry began to explain to Riddle.

They discussed their plans as they quickly made their way to the Slytherin dungeons, nodding or shaking their heads as they bounced ideas off each other.

"You're right that's better."

"Of course it's better."

"Well, you tell the basilisk. It'll just try to eat me again."

"I will."

"So now we wait for hell to be let loose," Harry said to Riddle, as they went up the staircase. "You better pack a bag and shrink it to fit in your pocket."

Riddle nodded and the two headed without further words to their respective rooms, only the squeaks of their steps betraying their presence.

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Author's Note: May Augustus rest in peace. And may Augusta survive to become Neville's grandmother.

I might have spelled Morfin wrong a couple of times before this chapter. I was under the impression it was written 'Morphin' like morphine…embarrassed


	10. Patience

"_Well, you tell the basilisk. It'll just try to eat me again."_

"_I will."_

"_So now we wait for hell to be let loose," Harry said to Riddle, as they went up the staircase. "You better pack a bag and shrink it to fit in your pocket."_

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Walking Across Time

Chapter Ten – Patience

Harry fiddled the wand of Augusta Longbottom during Slytherin sixth-year charms. His lip set into a thin line, he watched on as the professor tried to demonstrate how to vary the use of the levitation charm.

"We did that in first-year," Harry sneered mentally at the professor. Harry glanced at the door. Nothing yet, the waiting was going to drive him insane.

The teacher began talking about his works with the levitation charm. Harry was just about to drift off when he heard the scream of sheer terror coming from the throat of none other than Miss Longbottom herself. She was in the hallway just outside his classroom.

She screamed and screamed as if she needn't or could not stop to breathe in air. It was ear-splitting and raised the hair of many.

The professor startled, told the students to stay put and ran into the hallway looking for the source of disturbance. Students, never ones to listen in times of possible danger and excitement, all rushed to squeeze themselves out the door.

Harry, on the other hand, stayed at his desk and continued to fidget with Longbottom's wand. He could hear the students talking amongst themselves, some in disgust and others in shock.

"Is that a—body?"

"I think it used to be human. Ugh, the smell!"

"Hey that looks like his balls! It's gotta be male then!"

"That's his eyeballs, you fuck-wit."

"Children, please return to class, we'll take care of this!" an adult yelled pointlessly.

"Ew. It looks like it was digested."

"So does that mean this guy is vomit or shit?"

"Trust a Slytherin to come up with that," Harry half-chuckled before resuming his wand twirling and hallway listening.

"I think he was regurgitated. You think the house-elves tried to eat him?"

"That's bull."

"Hey, the Longbottom girl fainted. Think we should put some of the dude's remains in her hair?"

"I'd like to see her face when she finds out she's got dead guy in her precious hair, the stuck-up bish."

"STUDENTS, get back to your class or it'll be a hundred points from each!" a teacher yelled out.

Disgruntled, the students returned to the classroom.

"You missed out, Potter," the boy beside Harry told him as he sat down. "Seems like a student got chewed up."

"Who is it?" Harry asked innocently.

"There's not enough face left to be able to tell," the boy barked out a laugh before turning to his other friend. "I think they found a splinted wand though. They're checking it to see who the owner is."

Harry looked down and his knees and smiled. The plan was working. All he had to do now was to wait for the adults to find out that the wand belonged to Riddle.

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"They figured the owner of the wand belonged to!" a fifth-year Slytherin yelled as he burst into the common room. "You'll never believe who!"

"Wait, where's Tom?" a seventh-year girl said. "He'll skin us alive for giving out news like that without him around."

"But that's exactly the point!" the fifth-year Slytherin exclaimed. "Where is the Headboy?"

He looked around the room as people started to realize the implication of his last words.

"No, you don't mean to say that…"

"That's exactly right! The wand is Tom Riddle's," the fifth-year said excitedly. "It was the wand of our esteemed Headboy!"

"That means that the body remains they found were also Tom's?" a girl in Harry's year said in a horrified voice.

"That's what Dippet and Dumbledore were saying when I was outside the transfiguration classroom," the fifth-year said. "You want to know what's even crazier?"

"Tell, tell," the whole common room asked, in awe and in fear of what they had just heard.

"I heard that the killer was none other than Riddle's cousin, Augustus Gaunt!"

"But he's a first-year!"

"I've known him all my life, he'd never do something like that!" exclaimed a fourth-year pureblood. "Why would you ever believe that Auggie would do something like that?"

"Two reasons," the fifth-year said. "One, Augustus Gaunt cannot be found inside the school. Dumbledore thinks Augustus ran off. Two, because the aurors administered the truth serum on the Longbottom girl when she started babbling about Riddle and Augustus and some murder plan!"

"Noooo!"

"Yes, Dumbledore told Dippet that the Longbottom girl and Augustus had been working together against Riddle," the fifth-year said as he waved his hands around. "She hadn't realized that Augustus would go so far though!"

The news-bomb dropped, the Slytherin common room became a cacophony of voices, each trying to make others listen to his opinion.

A small smile of satisfaction on his lips, Harry got up from his armchair in front of the fire and walked towards the staircase.

The plan Harry had come up with after dumping Augustus' body down into the chamber had worked. To the wizarding world of 1940, Tom Riddle was dead and Augustus Gaunt was a fugitive the aurors were never going to catch.

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Harry finished his school year at Hogwarts and informed the headmaster at the end of the year that he'd be transferring to Durmstrang for his seventh-year. The Headmaster nodded, knowing very well that ever since the awful discovery that the Headboy had been chewed up and thrown up by an unknown animal, many Hogwarts students were leaving for other school.

Harry's departure was not conspicuous at all amongst all the other students leaving for foreign magical schools.

Harry got off the Hogwarts Express and made his way to Diagon Alley. He loitered around Flourish and Botts before heading to the apothecary. He bought some herbs and a cauldron before making his way to Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop, where a brown-haired man of non-descript appearance was stabbing away at his cherry-flavoured ice cream.

"Hey don't take your anger out at the ice cream!" Harry said. "I'm sorry I'm late. I wanted to make sure no one was following me."

"I don't tolerate lateness, Potter," Riddle said, under cover of his disguise. "You should know that better than anyone else."

"And you should know that it is only because you're still useful that I haven't killed you yet," Harry hissed. "I had to suffer the rest of Hogwarts baby-schooling and paranoid students while you got to take it easy in Knockturn Alley. So shut up."

Riddle sneered before sticking a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He changed the subject. "Dippet must have gone crazy without me around to do all the administrative work."

"He was decidedly disorganized," Harry admitted. "It was a stroke of genius to get the basilisk to eat up Augustus and regurgitate the remains. The body was unidentifiable."

"And with my wand there and Longbottom's confession, everything fell into place. They thought I was the victim and Augustus the perpetuator," Riddle agreed. "How did you know about that underground passage to Hogsmeade by the way? I don't know how I could have escaped from Hogwarts or else."

"Legacy of my father," Harry said cryptically and Riddle didn't push for more, preferring to finish his ice cream.

"Your hair is lighter and your face rounder," Harry remarked to Riddle. "You transfigured your own face?"

"I changed it enough so that I wouldn't be recognizable on sight," Riddle shrugged. "People who knew me before might take a second look but they'd be hard-pressed to say that Tom Riddle's face and my current face are the same."

"Good thinking," Harry said absent-mindedly. He was already thinking of their upcoming trip and the supplies they might need.

"School is finally over and I've covered my tracks," Harry finally said, turning to face Riddle. "Enjoy your last day in 1940 because we'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

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A/N: So Riddle didn't get framed exactly after all, although Augustus did. :p

Sorry about the long update, I finished the chapter a while ago and it seems I forgot to post it. Please don't frame me for a murder…


	11. Let Go

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"School is finally over and I've covered my tracks," Harry finally said, turning to face Riddle. "Enjoy your last day in 1940 because we'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

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**A/N: I'm posting this almost simultaneously as Chapter 10 so you might want to check to see if you read the previous chapter. **

Walking Across Time

Epilogue – Let Go

Shopping with Riddle wasn't as unpleasant as Harry had thought it would be. Riddle turned out to have a sharp eye for quality products and the necessary coldness of presence to scare shop-owners into lowering prices. Having lived in Knockturn Alley for a couple of months already, Riddle was very familiar with the methods necessary to survive amongst thieves, thugs and murderers. Then again, Riddle was already very much skilled in the area of intimidation and fear-inducement.

In one afternoon, the pair got themselves magically preserved food to last a year, night gear, several magical objects that could not be conjured and weapons. Efficient weapons that aimed to maim rather than to kill. In the future, information was priceless according to Harry. One needed to know who the survivors were, where they were and what they were planning next. There were too little people left to chance the possibility that a settlement would be left alone on the basis that it was too small.

Harry's future world was scarce in magic. In the off chance that they got dropped back into his own future, Harry wanted to be prepared.

The next morning, Harry was counting their material and making sure everything was where it should be.

"Did you fit all of the compartments of your bag?"

"Yes, oh wise time-traveler!"

"Do you have the weapons at hand?"

"Yes, oh wise master-dueller!"

"Did you seal the preserved food properly?"

"Yes, oh child-of-the-future!"

"You do not have a bone of humor in you, Riddle, so quit the sarcasm," Harry said harshly. "I doubt we'll end up in a empty country field. It's a lot more likely that we're dropped into the middle of a raid or a battle. We have to be dropped into a sector where magic is still operating and people tend to aggregate in those places."

"You talk as if we're heading back to your future," Riddle said, as he toyed with a plain dagger. "I thought we were heading to the future of this parallel world."

"Please don't start with the metaphysics with me," Harry groaned. He fiddled the now quiet portrait of Dumbledore. "I'm just preparing in the off chance that we do end up in a war-torn magicless time like mine. But with Augustus dead and you out of the picture, the future should be a better place."

"You never told me why your world was magicless," Riddle said, changing the subject.

"I did tell you!" Harry started before deadpanning. "I did kill you soon after so you might not remember."

Riddle scowled, the dagger poised in a dangerous position between his fingers.

"Never mind," Harry shook his head. "It's all very simple, the war with Voldemort escalated to a point where it spilled into the Muggle world. The Muggles saw the whole of wizarding community as a threat and attempted to control us. When that failed, they tried to wipe us out. In the end, they wiped themselves out."

Riddle snorted, "Muggle blood is tainted blood. They were bound to become extinct sooner or later."

"You seem to forget your own ancestry, Riddle," Harry chuckled. "But never mind—"

Harry never got to finish his sentence. Riddle grabbed Harry by the shirt and shoved him onto the wall, his wand threateningly pressed under Harry's chin.

"You will stop making insinuations about me," Riddle said. "I have my reasons for disliking Muggles as a whole."

"Yes and don't I know those reasons well!" Harry said, not at all discomfited by the fact that he could easily become the receptor of a head-decapitating spell. "Poor Tommy's mama. She raped a man in order to bear his son. And then said man abandoned poor Tommy in a broken down orphanage."

Riddle's eyes flashed red but he quickly regained the cold menacing composure he was so famous for (and feared for) at Hogwarts. "There you go, making assumptions again."

"I know more about your past then you know yourself," Harry said. "I've know you longer than you have lived, or have you forgotten?"

"I do not wish to be controlled," Riddle hissed, "especially by an upstart time-traveller."

"You have no idea of what I have gone through, the situations I was in," Harry snorted. "You have absolutely no idea of how many times I have travelled in time."

"Why should anything change by removing me from the picture?" Riddle gritted the words. "Now that I know of Voldemort's mistakes, how do you know I wouldn't surpass him?"

"Has your months away from Hogwarts somehow given you time to doubt my words?" Harry sneered condescendingly at the man holding him in a death grip. "You are controlled by your bigotry and you false ideals. As such, you will always be predictable."

Riddle held on.

"If you never rise to power as Lord Voldemort, there will not be a war amongst the magical community. If there is no war to start with, the wizard war will never spread to the Muggles and Muggles will remain in the dark about us, thus leading to no persecution and no massive bombing of the planet," Harry explained. "You have a brain, Riddle, so use it."

Riddle tightened his grip on Harry's neck, his wand digging further into Harry's skin. And as suddenly as he had attacked Harry, he let go.

Harry coughed and looked up at Riddle, a knowing smirk on his face. He adjusted his collar and swung his backpack onto his shoulder.

"Grab your bag and I'll activate the Tempus Clock," Harry commanded in a serious tone.

Half-sneering, Riddle did as he was told and put a his hand on the Tempus Clock. Harry twisted the dial sixty times clockwise and the two vanished from the room in which Tom had been staying. His rent was coming to an end today and he was supposed to evacuate the premises in order for the new tenent to move in. Riddle would not be missed as a tenant and he would not be missed as Headboy Tom Riddle because the latter was conveniently "dead". Neither would Harry Potter be missed because he had never existed in this time in the first place.

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Harry and Riddle were indeed dropped amidst a number of people. The two would have probably had to fight their way out had said people not been already dead and decaying.

Riddle was the first to react to the fact that he was lying on old smelly flesh. "Disgusting, Potter, you made me leave Hogwarts for this?"

"I'm not sure what happened," Harry said uncertainly for the first time in a long time. "We better take a look around before making any conclusions."

"Well, I see chains, I see gunshot wounds and I see corpses," Riddle said. "Now what does our esteemed time-traveller make of this evidence?"

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the blood-splattered walls with barbwire all around it. He swiftly turned around and noticed the piles of corpses, some freshly brought in, others dried to the bone.

"Shit, Riddle," Harry said. "We seem to be in the middle of the morgue of a slave compound."

"And how do we get out of here?" Riddle said, preparing himself to cast a cleaning spell on his now flesh-coated clothing.

"Don't cast scourgify, you'll just attract the attention of the jailers," Harry said, his eyes slits analyzing the surrounding for a possible exit route. "They've learned to detect magic in use."

"They as in who?" Riddle said. "Enemy wizards?"

"Muggles," Harry hissed.

Riddle snorted. "As if we couldn't defend ourselves."

"They've put magic dampeners on the area to prevent accidental magic or nonverbal spells from occurring. You don't seem to comprehend the situation we're in."

"Oh I understand perfectly well," Riddle said. "Nothing has changed. You were wrong."

But Harry wasn't listening; he was already climbing the walls using a magical artefact that stuck to surfaces.

"Well isn't that a display of magic?" Riddle said sardonically as he followed suit.

"The magic is in the object, not the air," Harry explained. "Hurry."

Riddle snorted but continued the ascent. He wanted to get away from the stench of rotten wizard bodies.

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Harry flipped through another newspaper of the large settlement they were in. With each turn of page, he became more and more frustrated.

"Nothing has changed," Harry looked on, flabbergasted. "Nothing at all."

Riddle remained silent. It was his first time here; he took his time to admire the empty desolate landscape that was one side of their world. The other side was the settlement where trapped wizards were kept for interrogation, torture and free labour.

"This is the era when the Muggles started to hunt wizards instead of trying to control them," Harry explained, his eyes still on an article featuring new protective methods to incapacitate a wizard.

"Is it sill because Voldemort?" Riddle asked.

"Believe it or not, the Dark Lord is some unknown entity that emerged from Bulgaria. A Durmstrang student whose ideas weren't too dissimilar to Voldemort's," Harry said, as he searched through the dated newspaper.

"So this is the future of my world," Riddle murmured.

"I made a gross miscalculation," Harry said shakily. "Neither you or Augustus were the catalyst of this future."

"Explain yourself, Potter."

"It was supposed to be your war that leaked out the wizarding world's existence. It was supposed to be Augustus becoming minister of magic that enslaved the world. The disappearance of both of you was supposed to lead to peaceful times," Harry said, the words stumbling out his mouth. "The fact is, it is the wizarding world itself that gave itself out. We were nothing but the means to this repulsive end."

Riddle snorted in amusement. "I could have told you myself that one Dark Lord can be easily replaced by another, Potter."

"I mean to say that we hunted ourselves to extinction," Harry said. "It would have happened whether you, I, Augustus, Dumbledore or anyone else for the matter had lived or not."

"Unfortunately the world does not revolve around you, Potter."

"It seemed it did, not long ago."

"You cannot change what was fated to happen. This is all bigger than you, me or even the wizarding world. Nature is re-establishing itself. Magic is unnatural and she has begun her purification of it."

"You knew this all along?" Harry asked, finally turning his face to look at the dark-haired boy. "And yet you still hold Muggles as a mistake of evolution?"

"Is the only sensible explanation," Riddle shrugged. "And Nature will purge the world of Muggles eventually."

Harry turned back to his musings, unhappy with the thoughts that were bubbling up to the surface of his mind.

Riddle then laughed unexpectedly. "You killed Augustus, brought me here, suffered endless circles of lives, and amounted to nothing. The pointlessness of your life is endlessly funny, Potter."

Harry looked up at the swirl of the smoke and smog that formed the sky, thinking that Riddle could not have hit the mark more painfully. He truly could not deny that everything he did so far had changed nothing at all.

"What do we suggest we do now, Potter, now that you have proven the futility of time-travel?" Riddle finally asked.

"We drink tea." Harry said, pulling cups, tealeaves and a saucer out of his backpack. "Another meaningless act to add to all the other ones."

The End

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A/N: It's over. I'm sort of happy I actually managed to get here. Many time-travel stories never seem to end so I really wanted to have an actual epilogue (no matter how abrupt) as well as a message of the futility of changing the past. Because I somehow doubt that a cursed character like Harry Potter should ever be happy. I like him fighting, struggling and pissing people off.


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